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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23564494">a fever you can't sweat out</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoblinRuler/pseuds/GoblinRuler'>GoblinRuler</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Bondage, F/M, Feelings Realization, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Multi, Pegging, Shameless Smut, Succubi &amp; Incubi, Threesome - F/M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 19:02:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,907</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23564494</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoblinRuler/pseuds/GoblinRuler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A hunt for a succubus leaves Geralt in a dangerous state. Luckily, Yennefer and Jaskier are ready to help him out.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>71</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>479</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>a fever you can't sweat out</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Ok, seriously, I haven't written anything seriously in years, only to write almost 10.000 words in three days. Then the lovely Alyse lent me her editing skills and wrangled me into working out some minor kinks.</p><p>Heh, minor kinks.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>By the time they manage to get to the inn, Geralt is uncomfortable, almost twitchy. His cheeks are flushed and there’s sweat beading on his upper lip - not much of a worry on it’s own, but Jaskier remembers that Geralt’s mutations make it almost impossible for him to blush, let alone sweat.</p><p>Jaskier makes to ask him if he’s feeling alright, but Geralt has already opened the door, barreling past the surprised innkeeper and taking the stairs three steps at a time. The bard halts for a second. “Pardon the witcher, good sir. The fight against monsters is a tiring one, I’m sure you understand.” He throws a coin up in the air and runs after Geralt before the man has gotten a chance to catch it.</p><p>They make their way up the stairs and their room - thankfully paid for in full for another two nights - in record time, Geralt kicking the door in with minimal restraint. Yennefer looks up in surprise as he stomps in, closely followed by Jaskier who swiftly closes their door and locks it before turning to her. “We may have a problem.”</p><p>The sorceress takes one look at Geralt, who has managed to strip off his swords and is now yanking at the clasps of his armor, grunting in frustration, and closes her book. “What happened?”</p><p>“Well, the good news is, the succubus is definitely dead,” Jaskier says, scooting across the room and carefully avoiding Geralt’s flailing limbs as he does so. “The not so good news…”</p><p>“Scratched me,” Geralt grunts out, having shrugged out of the leather cuirass and thrown the offending garment into the corner.</p><p>“Show me.” Yennefer is already across the room, yanking down the neckline of his shirt, and scrutinizes the offending cut. “Barely nicked you.”</p><p>“That’s what I said!” Jaskier throws his hands in the air and flops down in one of the rickety chairs the inn provided them. “And he was fine for most part of the ride here, but then he went quiet and still. More so than usual,” he adds before Yennefer can say anything, “and then I thought he was blushing but…”</p><p>“Witchers don’t blush,” Yennefer finishes. She fixes Geralt with a stare. “It’s already bad, isn’t it?”</p><p>“It’s gonna get worse,” Geralt says through clenched teeth, “far worse.”</p><p>“Worse how?” Jaskier is almost afraid to ask, but more afraid of not knowing.</p><p>Geralt shakes his head, rubbing at the cut in irritation, pacing back and forth like an animal in captivity. “Fever, delirium, the works. I have a better chance of surviving this than most, but it won’t be pleasant.”</p><p>“Surviving?!” Jaskier is on his feet in an instant, looking back and forth between Yennefer and Geralt, “You mean to say that that little scratch might actually <em>kill you</em>?”</p><p>Geralt doesn’t answer. Instead, Yennefer does.</p><p>“Succubi have venom in their claws that make their victims go wild with desire. If said desire is not sated, the victim’s system can’t handle the venom. Most die, some don’t. With his mutations, Geralt stands a far better chance than a human, but it won’t be pleasant.”</p><p>“Now there’s an understatement if I ever heard one!” Jaskier snaps, throwing his hands up in the air. “So what, we find you a saucy little wench and leave you alone for an hour?”</p><p>“That won’t solve the problem,” Yennefer replies, her face a mask of calm, even though Jaskier can see her fiddle with the seam of her sleeve. “To counteract the venom, he’ll need several hours of… action, so to speak. Not to mention that the fever will make him less susceptible to reason. Succubi thrive on human energy, so their venom will help with that. The few cases of a succubi victim finding another partner are… not pretty.”</p><p>“Yen…” Geralt halts his pacing, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, “it’s getting worse. You still got that rope?”</p><p>The sorceress presses her lips together in a firm line, eyeing him. “Are you sure?”</p><p>“As good a solution as any. When this is over, at least you can tell your client it’s been thoroughly tested.”</p><p>Yennefer nods and turns around swiftly, picking up her bag and starting to rummage through it. Geralt inhales deeply before resuming his pacing.</p><p>“Maybe we can wash out the cut?” Jaskier squeaks, mentally chastising himself for the tremble in his voice, “I’ll - I’ll just ask them to bring us a bucket and some rags, maybe we can lessen it, make you more comfortable-”</p><p>Geralt cuts him off with a wordless grunt, still pacing, his black shirt sticking to his back and chest.</p><p>“Won’t do him any good,” Yennefer replies, not looking up from her rummaging through her bag, then making a small, triumphant noise as she straightens again, a coil of strange, shimmering rope in her hands, “it’s already in his system. If he won’t go for the obvious cure, all we can do is wait it out. You’ll want to take off your shirt, Geralt, might help keeping you a little cooler.”</p><p>Jaskier eyes the rope in her hands. “What’s that for?”</p><p>Yennefer gives him a look, but doesn’t answer. Instead she turns to the witcher, who has stopped his pacing. “We should hurry.”</p><p>Jaskier watches in disbelief as Geralt gives her a nod before pulling his shirt over his head and then making his way over to the large bed, still wearing his leather pants. “Wait, you’re not going to…”</p><p>“No other choice,” Geralt says, laying down in the bed and stretching his arms out so Yennefer can tie his wrists to the bedposts, pulling his arms wide above his head. While he does so, Jaskier can finally see that the front of his trousers are bulging, making Geralt’s discomfort all the more clear.</p><p>“No other- <em>Geralt</em>!”</p><p>“I won’t be able to hold back!” The witcher turns his head as Yennefer secures his right arm and moves around the bed to tie his left. “I will go mad with the fever and lose all sense. I won’t…” he pauses, a muscle ticking in his jaw, “I won’t care. I will hurt-”</p><p>The unspoken <em>you</em> hangs between them and Jaskier stares at Geralt in shock. “But… there must be something… can’t we-”</p><p>“Whatever you’re thinking, I don’t want to hear it,” the witcher bites out as Yennefer finishes tying his left arm. His entire face is flushed now, his pupils dilated so wide his eyes are almost completely black, but the expression on his face is one of desperation. “I won’t… I won’t ask that of you. Either of you.”</p><p>“But Geralt-”</p><p>“Done,” Yennefer interrupts them, “not too tight?”</p><p>Geralt gives the ropes - enchanted, Jaskier realizes - an experimental tug, then a more forceful yank, and lays back down in satisfaction when they refuse to budge. “I’d rather have them too tight than too lose.” He rests his head on the pillow underneath it and sighs. “Whatever I say or do, don’t untie me until the fever is down. If it doesn’t…” He lets his sentence trail off and an uncomfortable silence falls over the room.</p><p>Yennefer, who hasn’t said much of anything in the entire affair, shifts her weight from one foot to another. “Geralt, I don’t like this.”</p><p>“If you have a better idea, Yen, I’m all for it,” he snaps at her, then furrows his brow. “Sorry.”</p><p>Yennefer dismisses the apology with a flick of the wrist. “At least let me give you something to calm you down a little. Ease you into it. Yes yes,” she adds in an irritated tone when Geralt goes to dismiss her suggestion, “I <em>know</em> there is no antidote, but a little valerian won’t exacerbate the symptoms. Please,” her gaze softens as she gazes down upon him, pleading at him, “let me do something. I can’t watch you all night and not do anything.”</p><p>Geralt hesitates for a fraction of a second, then nods. “Fine.” As Yennefer turns around to start mixing the concoction, he adds, “Who knows, I might sleep through the whole thing.”</p><p>From the way Yennefer’s shoulders stiffen, Jaskier knows nobody in the room believes him.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The waiting is the worst. After downing the bottle Yennefer held to his lips, Geralt has dozed off, for the time being. His colour has not changed, however, and his face is still covered in a slight sheen. Jaskier hasn’t had the courage to see if his… <em>other symptoms</em> are unchanged as well. He tried to busy himself by plucking at his lute, but the notes sound hollow and he gave up soon after. Now he’s on the other bed, his legs folded, staring at the witcher as the flickering light of the fire conjures shadows across his reddened face.</p><p>From her chair at the other side of the room, Yennefer shoots the bard a look. “You know you don’t have to stay and see any of this.”</p><p>Jaskier snorts in disbelief, but otherwise does not answer her. He hates all of this, most of all being helpless to do anything, but also that Geralt would not let them do more. He’s fairly confident that Geralt will make it - the gods know what else he has seen the witcher shake off - but the niggling thought remains that this might actually be the thing that kills him. That thought is something he can’t stomach. <em>A life without Geralt...</em></p><p>“I mean it, Jaskier. If you rather wait it out in a different room-”</p><p>“Would you leave him with me if I said that to you?” It comes out harsher than he means to, but he is past caring. From the bed, Geralt gives a soft mumble and shifts, but otherwise he does not react.</p><p>Yennefer pauses, which surprises him. He does not think her fully at a loss for words, but she does seem to consider what she says next. “I did not mean it like that. I know you two are good friends, but this must be new territory to you. I at least have seen… some of Geralt that you have not. If that thought scares you-”</p><p>Jaskier bites his lip. Hangs his head, so he cannot see her or Geralt. “It does. But not in the way you think it does.”</p><p>The silence rings for a second too long and he lifts his head again to find Yennefer staring at him, her mouth slack. She’s a smart person, he knows she is. He’s always admired that about her, even if he would not admit it before.</p><p>“You… oh Jaskier…”</p><p>He cuts her off with a slight shake of his head. “I’d rather… not talk about it, if it’s all the same to you.”</p><p>“I assume you haven’t told him then?”</p><p>He barks out a laugh at that. “Right, that would go over well. ‘I’m Geralt of Rivia, I don’t need anyone and no one needs me’. I’m sure he would love to hear all about my feelings, he’s usually so considerate of them, what could go wrong?”</p><p>He hears her dress rustle and feels the bed dip as she sits down next to him, her shoulder bumping his in a wordless gesture of support, sympathy and something that might have been pity if it weren’t for the fact that she’s Yennefer of Vengerburg. “He tends to do that, doesn’t he?” He can hear the half-smirk in her voice as she too stares at Geralt on the other bed. “I think he’s almost convinced himself of it, too.”</p><p>They sit next to each other for a while, shoulder to shoulder, while the witcher grunts and shifts every once in a while. Jaskier has stopped worrying his lower lip a while back, so now he’s clenching and unclenching his hands in his lap. After a while, Yennefer wordlessly pries his hands apart and grabs one of them firmly in her own. “You won’t be of any use if you bruise or fracture something with all your worrying,” she hisses in feign annoyance.</p><p>“Why, Yennefer, I’m amazed you care.”</p><p>She gives him sort of a half-smirk. "Birds of a feather." They hold eye-contact for a moment, until the witcher gives another soft moan and Yennefer’s face tightens. She glances over at the other bed. “If… when this gets worse, we’ll need to be ready. Geralt needs us.”</p><p>“I know. But he’s in good hands. Between the two of us, he’s safe as houses.”</p><p>She gives him a weak smile and squeezes his hand. Neither of them lets go for a long time.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>When it finally happens, it’s almost a shock. One moment, Geralt is as still as he has been, shifting every once in a while. The next, he’s arching off the bed with a growl, hips stuttering towards the ceiling. His eyes are wide open, his pupils blown so wide his eyes are fully black.</p><p>Jaskier starts out of his reverie, nearly tumbling off the bed. Yennefer is up in an instant and moves into Geralt’s field of vision. “Geralt, calm down. You’re fine, Jaskier and I are here.” She carefully lays a hand on the witcher’s shoulder, as if to calm him.</p><p>The effect is instant. Geralt groans at her touch and turns his head towards her, his cheeks brushing against her hand. He sighs contentedly, looking up at her with a look of rapture. “Please.” It’s lower than a whisper, but in Jaskier’s ears it’s louder than a church bell. The witcher mouths at Yennefer’s wrist, pressing open mouthed kisses against the creamy skin. “Please,” he says again, a little louder this time.</p><p>“No, Geralt, we agreed. Here, I have another potion, it will help you.”</p><p>Yennefer goes to grab the small bottle she put on the table. The moment she lets go of Geralt, he lets out a whine of disappointment and tugs at the ropes around his wrists. “I don’t want a potion, Yen, please, come back, touch me, I’m burning, please.” He’s babbling, desperately trying to follow her and getting more frustrated when the ropes won’t let up. “Please Yen, I’m on fire, I need…”</p><p>Jaskier is on his feet and makes his way over to Geralt’s side. “It’s alright, Geralt, Yennefer will give you something to help.” He too makes to gently press Geralt back down onto the bed, but the witcher whirls his head around to look at him and the intensity of his gaze makes Jaskier pause.</p><p>“Jaskier, please, I can’t, it hurts,” he pants, now fixated on the bard. “Please, please, help me.”</p><p>“Shhh, Geralt, go lay down, we’ll help, that’s it…” Jaskier gives Geralt’s shoulder another push and this time the witcher does go back down. His gaze does not leave Jaskier’s face and he licks his lips as he continues to stare, his black eyes drinking in the sight as if he’s parched and Jaskier is a pitcher of water.</p><p>Yennefer appears on Geralt’s other side, an uncorked bottle in her hand. “Here, Geralt, drink this, it will help, come on.” She cups Geralt’s head and gently attempts to turn him around and hold the bottle to his lips, but the witcher shakes his head violently.</p><p>“No, no, please, I need you to touch me, please Jaskier, Yen, I’m on fire, I-”</p><p>“Shhh, I know, it’s alright,” Yen says, again pressing the bottle to Geralt’s mouth, “here, take this-”</p><p>“NO!” Geralt suddenly bucks again and the bottle flies from Yennefer’s hands, landing next to the bed and breaking as it does, spilling the potion over the floor. Geralt kicks wildly, sending the blankets flying too, yanking harder on the ropes. “Please, please, I want you to touch me, please!”</p><p>“Oh gods,” Jaskier breathes. He desperately tries to push Geralt down on the bed, but even with his hands bound, the witcher is much stronger. Yennefer seems to have recovered from the potion being lost and runs across the room to her bag.</p><p>“We need to tie his feet before he hurts himself or breaks free,” she says firmly, coming back to the bed with another coil of shimmering rope. Together, they manage to fasten Geralt’s legs to the lower bedposts, despite the witcher’s wild bucking. He continues to struggle even after they finish, pleas and desperate words falling from his lips as he gazes at them from the bed. He keeps thrusting his hips in the air, writhing on the mattress and getting more frantic when they won’t approach him again. The bed creaks dangerously once or twice, but holds against his pulling.</p><p>“Is there really nothing we can do?” Jaskier asks, even though he knows the answer.</p><p>“No,” she says, predictably, “I can make another potion to calm him down again, but that’s it. We can only wait.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The potion does not help as much as the previous dose did. Geralt stops his violent thrashing, but he does not slip back into the semi-sleeping state he had earlier. Instead, he slowly writhes on the bed, his hips still thrusting lazily as he does, moaning in the back of his throat. From time to time, he looks at either Jaskier or Yennefer, pleading with them to help him, touch him, just once, just one kiss, one stroke, please please <em>please</em>.</p><p>It’s well into the night when Geralt’s tactics change. From hooded eyes, he stares at the bard, who has resumed his perch on the other bed, pointedly not returning the witcher’s stare as he hugs his knees to his chest.</p><p>“Jaskier.” His voice is not as desperate as it was earlier, but it’s still not the rumble he knows. “Jaskier, please, I need you.”</p><p>Jaskier will not look him in the eyes. He will not look at his face, not when he wears that look of longing that he knows Geralt would never have for him, not if he were in his right mind. He shakes his head minutely. “I can’t, Geralt. Not when you’re like this.”</p><p>“Please...” He is panting slightly, his gaze still on Jaskier, twisting his body to turn more towards him.</p><p>“You’re not in your right mind,” Jaskier replies firmly, his gaze flicking to Yennefer, who is on Geralt’s other side, regarding the scene in silence. “If you weren’t under the influence right now, you would not want me.”</p><p>"But I would!” Geralt lifts himself up from the bed a little, leaning up on his elbows, his eyes boring into Jaskier. “I always need you, Jaskier, please. I want you.”</p><p>“No you don’t,” Jaskier bites out, clenching his teeth. “That’s the venom talking. You don’t need me or want me.” His gaze flicks to Yennefer, almost begging her to make it stop, but she can only answer his gaze.</p><p>“No, it isn’t. I want you, Jaskier. Please.” A pause, and then… “Jaskier, please, I love you. I want you, <em>please</em>.”</p><p>Jaskier lets out a breathy, wet laugh, that does not hide his sob at all, and stand up from the bed. “You were right, Yen,” he says, “I can’t do this. I’ll be downstairs and.. be downstairs. Right. Let me know how this continues. Later.” He quickly grabs his doublet, shrugs it on and all but dashes out of the room. Even in the hallway, he can hear Geralt call after him to come back.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Cold outside air stings his face and he leans against the outer all of the inn. Jaskier groans, lets his head fall back against the wall, and wipes at his face again. This was a mistake, he thinks, to stay and let Geralt… let the situation get like this. Even if the witcher does not remember this in the morning, Jaskier will not get those words out of his mind.</p><p>“Fuck!” He shouts into the night, kicking wildly at a small rock and feeling no relief as it soars away through the trees. He knows he’s asking for trouble, being outside at night, but for now he does not care. Anything is better than being inside for now.</p><p>Of course, because destiny hates him, at that moment, the door swings open and Yennefer comes running outside. “Jaskier!”</p><p>The desperation in her voice is unlike anything he’s ever heard from her and he’s at her side in an instant. “What is it?”</p><p>“It’s Geralt, the moment you ran out he went ballistic. Come back, now, I can’t handle him on my own.”</p><p>Fucking witcher, he thinks, but he’s already inside, running in after the sorceress and not caring that they’re probably waking the other patrons in their mad dash to get back into their room.</p><p>Geralt is thrashing on the bed, howling around the shawl tied haphazardly around his head. “You <em>gagged</em> him?!” Jaskier asks in disbelief as Yennefer locks the door behind him.</p><p>“The moment you left he started screaming your name. If anyone comes in here and comes to the wrong conclusions, we’ll have a bloodbath on our hands, or worse.” She moves back to the bed. “Geralt, calm down, he’s here, I brought him back.”</p><p>Jaskier moves in behind her, and the instant Geralt see him, relief floods his still flushed face and he slumps back onto the bed. His eyes are wide with unspoken desire as he tries to talk through the gag. Jaskier sighs.</p><p>“Alright.” He moves around to the foot of the bed and shrugs his doublet off. “I’ll help him.”</p><p>“You what?” Yennefer turns to him in disbelief. “Jaskier, don’t do this to yourself.”</p><p>“He’s getting worse, Yen, you know he is.” He kicks off his boots, barefoot on the wooden floor as he makes his way back to the bed. “Either he dies or he makes such a racket we’ll get found out. I’ll do it.”</p><p>She fixes him with another stare, then nods. “Alright.”</p><p>He waits for her to unlock the door and leave, but instead, she undoes the button holding her fur cape and neatly drapes the garment over the back of her chair. When he gives her a look of confusion, she raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t think I would let you do this by yourself?” Instead of waiting for an answer, she starts to undo the laces of her elaborate dress, nodding at him. “Go ahead. I’ll join you in a minute.”</p><p>Well then, this is not how he envisioned his life going, but he’s flexible. Turning back to the bed, Jaskier carefully bends down and strokes Geralt’s sweaty face, pulling some strands of hair away from where they’re sticking to his forehead. The witcher moans around the gag, closing his eyes and leaning into the touch eagerly.</p><p>“Shhh,” Jaskier whispers, “It’s alright. We’re going to take care of you.”</p><p>Geralt moans again, enthusiastically, and Jaskier decides to stop thinking. He gently sits down on the side of the bed, still stroking Geralt’s face with one hand and letting one travel down to the witcher’s neck. Corded muscles twitch under his fingertips and he allows himself to take his time, to drink in the sensations he will probably only have tonight. When his hand travels down to Geralt’s torso, the witcher moans again, pushing against him when Jaskier first flicks, then strokes one pert nipple. He pinches it experimentally and can’t help but delight in the sound Geralt makes. He does it again, earning himself another moan, and grins. “You like that, huh? I thought you might.” Jaskier takes a moment to experiment a little, working out what Geralt likes best. He's fantasized about it from time to time, but the real deal is so much better. Geralt is so responsive to his touches, eager and wanting, and a not insignificant part of Jaskier prides himself in making Geralt go wild like this.</p><p>Yennefer is suddenly behind him, pressing against his back, working her hands under his shirt. “Don’t tease him too much, Jaskier, he’s already been through so much. Why don’t you help him out a little?”</p><p>Jasker does not have to ask what she means. He moves down slightly, abandoning his ministrations on Geralt’s nipples and allowing the sorceress - already gloriously naked - to take his spot on the bed. Gently, he trails a path down, over firm muscles and soft hair, finally pausing at the waistband of the pants Geralt is still wearing. The witcher whines at that, but Jaskier hesitates. Once he does this, he realizes, there is no going back. He looks up briefly and catches Yennefer’s eye. She’s staring over her shoulder, one hand combing through Geralt’s hair, the other stroking his chest, and something wordless passes between them. He nods, and, with a deep breath, starts to undo the laces at the front of Geralt’s trousers.</p><p>Geralt moans in relief when Jaskier pulls his pants down over his hips, freeing his swollen member, sprouting up from a nest of white curls. Jaskier’s mouth waters at the sight, something he’s rarely allowed himself to imagine, only on nights where he was sure Geralt would not hear him as he, quickly and discreetly, jerked off while biting the back of his hand. His imagination turns out to be quite close to reality, he muses, as he brushes his fingers along the shaft, earning himself another moan. From his peripheral vision, he’s aware of Yennefer placing gentle, nibbling kisses along Geralt’s throat and chest, hears her breathy voice whispering encouragements.</p><p>He grasps Geralt in his hand more firmly, gives an experimental stroke and delights at the way Geralt grunts. He does it again, and again, marveling at the feeling of it, and he feels a part of himself react in ways not unexpected. Emboldened, he climbs onto the bed and maneuvers himself to sit between Geralt’s spread legs, staring up at the witcher. He suddenly realizes that Yennefer and him have Geralt at their mercy and that realization both terrifies and arouses him. Geralt is staring up at him, eyes still wide, teeth clenched around the fabric of the gag, and gives him another pleading moan. How can he say no to that?</p><p>Carefully grasping Geralt’s cock by the base, Jaskier wets his lips and sucks the head into his mouth. The witcher throws his head back and moans louder, wantonly, and from her perch next to him, Yennefer looks back at the bard and lets out an “oh, <em>fuck</em>” before going back to her ministrations eagerly. Jaskier silently agrees with her. He takes a second to adjust to the sensation - it’s been quite some time since he’s done this - and then carefully slides his lips down the length, taking in more of Geralt.</p><p>The witcher bucks his hips, forcing Jaskier to take in more slightly too fast, and he grabs Geralt’s hips with both hands and forces them back down. Geralt keens at that, and Jaskier feels his eyes flutter shut. How long has he been aching to do this, to touch the witcher like this, make him moan and writhe for hours on end? Some treacherous part of him pipes up that he should enjoy it while it lasts, that this will never happen again after tonight, but he ignores it. He slides back up, until he barely has the head in his mouth still, then back down, repeats that. After a while, he managed to keep a steady rhythm, still holding down Geralt’s hips as he bobs up and down. Geralt’s keening barely drowns out the obscene sounds Jaskier is making and when he stares up, both Geralt and Yennefer are staring at him.</p><p>“Fuck, Jaskier, you look amazing,” Yennefer breathes. She turns back to Geralt, grabbing his hair and pulling gently, but firmly. This earns her a moan, making her grin, and she shoots Jaskier another look. “Are you going to suck him until he comes, Jaskier? Are you going to swallow when he does? I bet he would love it if you did.” She gives Geralt’s hair another yank and the witcher drops his head back as Jaskier speeds up, encouraged by both her words and Geralt’s frantic panting, the way his hips buck against Jaskier’s hands as he gets closer and closer.</p><p>Emboldened, Jaskier braces himself and sinks down again, swallowing Geralt down to the root, feeling the head of his cock bump against the back of his throat as he sucks with all his might. Geralt yells, thrusts one more time and comes violently down Jaskier’s throat as Yennefer sucks on a nipple. The bard sputters for a second, but then regains his composure and swallows, managing to swallow most of it down. He can feel a little of it drip down his chin as he lets go of Geralt’s cock, which isn’t softening at all, and stares up at the two of them. Geralt actually seems out of breath, as if this first orgasm has taken the edge of, and Yennefer is beaming at him.</p><p>They take advantage of Geralt being temporarily calm to untie his legs and help him out of his pants, leaving Jaskier the only one still partially dressed. At one leer from Yennefer though, he swiftly remedies the situation before joining her and Geralt on the bed once more. Stroking the witcher’s thigh soothingly, he looks up at Yennefer. “So what now?”</p><p>“Tired already? And here I was thinking you were such an experienced lover,” Yennefer smirks at him, but then her face softens. “You can still back out, you know. I can take over from here. With how out of it he is, he might just believe I was the only one.”</p><p>Jaskier considers this for a moment, then shakes his head. “Might as well see it through.” His voice comes out steady, thank the gods, because if she could hear his panic she would probably force him out anyways. No matter, he made his decision. He quickly pinches the inside of his arm to banish the thoughts and gives the sorceress another look. “What about you, though? How are you… alright with all of this?”</p><p>Yennefer pauses, as if considering how to answer, but before she can, Geralt lets out a moan and she turns to him. “Shhhh,” she says, crawling back onto the bed, “here, let me help you with that.” She unties the gag, tosses it to the side, and uses the opportunity to kiss Geralt deeply. He moans, returning the kiss eagerly, and Jaskier is mesmerized by the sight of them, drinking it in.</p><p>Then Yennefer breaks the kiss and look over at the bard. “Why don’t you take over from me and I get to work?” She gives him a cheeky grin and he doesn’t know how fast to get to Geralt’s side as she slides down the bed, straddling Geralt’s hips.</p><p>The witcher turns his head when Jaskier crawls up to him, his pupils still wide, but he seems less delirious than earlier. “Jaskier,” he rasps, “please.”</p><p>Jaskier smiles at him. “Anything, Geralt. What do you want?”</p><p>“Kiss me. Please.”</p><p>“Well, when you ask me like that, how can I resist?” He lowers himself down and captures Geralt’s lips. He tries to be gentle, but Geralt isn’t having any of it, instead plowing into the bard’s mouth hungrily. Their teeth clack together as Jaskier tries to match Geralt’s pace, grabbing a fistful of white hair and delighting at the moan that escapes the witcher at that. He plunges his tongue into Geralt’s mouth, taking control of the kiss, biting at his lower lip.</p><p>Yennefer, meanwhile, is riding Geralt at a leisurely pace, rocking back and forth as she watches the two men kiss. One of her hands is grasping at Geralt’s side,nails digging into him while the other one rubs between her legs as she bites her lip, panting as she rolls her hips slowly but steadily. Geralt tries to meet her movements, but he’s sloppy, his eyes unfocused and breathing ragged. “Please,” he moans into the bard’s mouth, “I can’t, I can’t-”</p><p>“Yes, you can,” Jaskier replies, “come on, Geralt, let go, we’re not going anywhere, it’s alright.”</p><p>Geralt’s eyes roll into the back of his head and he moans loudly, thrusting up and nearly lifting Yennefer off the bed as he shudders through his orgasm. Yennefer, too, moans, her hand between her legs working rapidly, and she collapses, falling across Geralt’s chest as he relaxes again, shivering and trying to catch her breath.</p><p>Jaskier stares at them as they lay there, half tangled into each other and sweaty. Yennefer’s dark hair forms a halo around her head as she breathes in deep, a smile darting across her lips. She lifts up slowly, wincing as Geralt slides out of her with a wet sound. “I need a breather. My gods, Geralt, if you’re going to be like this all night, I won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”</p><p>Geralt responds by arching his back, rubbing his cock against her again, still slick with the both of them and <em>still hard</em>. Yennefer groans, briefly pressing back against him, but then she pecks the witcher on the forehead and gets up. Geralt tries to go after her, but the ropes hold and he falls back, a whine escaping his throat. “Yen…”</p><p>Yennefer smiles, leaning over to stroke his hair. “I know, my dear, I know. You’re on fire still, aren’t you?” At his nod, she looks over to Jaskier, who meets her gaze, unwavering. “How about it, Jaskier? You think you can help him out while I take a break?”</p><p>He hesitates for a second, but then Geralt turns to him, his eyes wide and pleading, and he can’t say no. He bends down and captures Geralt’s mouth in another searing kiss, revelling in the pleased sounds the witcher makes. Yennefer snorts softly and he hears her soft footsteps as she makes her way over to the other bed, sinking down onto it with a soft groan.</p><p>Jaskier breaks the kiss for a moment, which makes Geralt whine again, but the whining becomes a sound of approval when the bard climbs onto the bed with him, taking Yennefer’s earlier place and leaning down to capture Geralt’s mouth again. He tangles his hands in the long, white hair, relishing its softness and how it glides between his fingers as Geralt teeth nip at his lips and tongue, eager and hungry.</p><p>“Jaskier, please, I need…”</p><p>“Tell me,” the bard whispers, pressing his forehead against Geralt’s, their breaths mingling as he stares down at him, “tell me, Geralt, and I’ll give it to you. I'll give you anything you want.”</p><p>“Fuck me.”</p><p>Jaskier stills for a moment, heat pooling in his stomach at the request, but then he smiles, pressing another kiss on Geralt’s mouth. “Of course. Anything you want.”</p><p>“Here.” Yennefer holds out a small vial - who knows where she pulled it from, or maybe she had it ready, just in case - and Jaskier takes it from her, picking up a whiff of lavender from it. He stares at it, suddenly not so sure of himself. He knows the principal of it, has experimented a little in his time, but never with another man. What if he hurts Geralt in his inexperience?</p><p>As if he can hear Jaskier’s thoughts, Geralt whimpers “Please, Jaskier, I want it, I want you inside me, want to feel it, please, please, I’m <em>burning</em>-”</p><p>“Alright alright, let me…” and he’s already oiling up his fingers, shuffling down from his position straddling Geralt’s hips until he’s kneeling between his legs again. The witcher groans, spreading his legs and giving Jaskier better access to his goal, so open and vulnerable that it makes his throat go dry. Jaskier swallows, hesitates, then slowly brings his fingers down and rubs against Geralt’s hole experimentally. Geralt keens, throwing his head back “Yes… more, more, please!”</p><p>Jaskier feels his belly flutter at the sight. Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf, flushed and wanton and begging for anything Jaskier will give him. <em>Only because he can’t help it</em>, a traitorous little voice in his mind pipes up, but Jaskier grits his teeth, banishing it. He rubs more firmly, drinking in the sounds that fall from Geralt’s mouth, then pushes against the tight ring of muscle, feeling it give easily, as if drawing him in.</p><p>Geralt keens, hips stuttering, heavy cock lolling and smearing fluids across his stomach, as Jaskier pumps his finger in and out slowly, teasing him. Another finger soon follows, crooking against that spot that makes Geralt all but shout and then plea more desperately for more, faster, harder, <em>anything</em>. Jaskier complies, adding another finger while grabbing for the oil blindly.</p><p>After what seems like an eternity, Jaskier finally locates the vial between the sheets, hastily dribbling the remaining oil on his cock and withdrawing his fingers. He doesn’t give Geralt a chance to plea though, scrambling up to grab hold of one muscled thigh and lining himself up. He sinks in with relative ease, more hindered by the bucking of Geralt’s hips than the resistance of the muscle, panting at the heat and pressure around his cock. When he finally sheaths himself fully, he has to pause, holding onto Geralt’s hips in desperation, sure the slightest twitch will make him come and make this be over too soon. Geralt, too, is panting like he’s run for miles, looking up at Jaskier like he’s the sun, but not moving or making a sound, as if he too wants this to last.</p><p>He sees Yennefer move from the corner of his eye and glances over. She’s staring at the two of them as she sits on the edge of the bed, rolling one of her soft breasts in one hand and pleasuring herself with the other. The sight sends an unexpected shock of desire through him and he envisions himself at her feet, his face between her legs while she moans and grabs his hair and pants out a litany of yesses as he brings her over the edge. Yennefer catches his eye and grins wide. “Very tempting, little bard.” Jaskier can feel his cheeks heat up as he remembers that she can read minds, but he meets her gaze steadily, the corner of his mouth lifting in what he hopes is an inviting grin, a challenge for the near future. Yennefer’s eyes darken and for a moment they stare at each other, but then Geralt moans in impatience and the sorceress breaks their stare to look at him. “Why, Jaskier, you forget your current task. Why don’t you get back to it? I’m perfectly fine right here.”</p><p>Jaskier nods, turning back to the witcher, who is looking up at him pleadingly, his lips parted and soft puffs of air escaping from between them. Bracing himself, he manages to pull back a little, feeling himself slip out partially, then pushing back in. He’s rewarded with a low groan from the witcher, so he does it again, then again. He finds a rhythm, still holding onto Geralt’s hips for dear life, speeding up a little and trying different angles. When Geralt shudders, arching his back and hooking a leg around Jaskier’s back, he knows he’s found the right spot again, hitting it again on the next stroke. Geralt moans louder now, arching again and both his heels are digging into Jaskier’s back now, pulling him in closer as his thrusts get wilder, deeper, faster. “Fuck, yes, like that, just like that, Jaskier, you’re so good, better than I ever imagined, yes, yes!”</p><p>Jaskier groans and lets himself fall forwards, forcing Geralt to pull his legs up as he leans over the witcher. He can feel his muscles strain from the activity, but he can also feel his abs tighten, can feel himself get closer and closer to the edge, way too soon already but also not fast enough.</p><p>Geralt is almost shouting now, head thrown back in abandon, the bed frame creaking again as he pulls at the ropes around his wrists. “Yes, yes, yes, Jaskier, don’t stop, please, please, don’t-”</p><p>Jaskier grabs a handful of pale hair again and crushes their mouths together, smothering the shouts before anyone else can hear, and gives one, two, three more thrusts and then he feels Geralt convulse underneath him, feels hot and sticky fluid splatter across their stomachs and he too is coming, panting and moaning and clawing at Geralt’s shoulder, his thighs and back aching gloriously as he spills into the witcher.</p><p>He loses sense of himself for a bit, hand still tangled in Geralt’s hair and his head on Geralt’s chest as they lie there, sticky and spent and dazed. It’s only when he hears Yennefer huff and get up that he looks up. She’s flushed, wetness glistening between her thighs and a sated smile on her face as she approaches them. “Fuck me, Jaskier, I never knew you had it in you.” It could be interpreted as a jab, but her tone suggests otherwise, a hint of awe and something, something else he can’t quite place, but she’s already turning towards Geralt, gently cupping his cheek as his head lolls towards her. “How are you doing, my darling?”</p><p>Geralt hums, eyes closed, cheeks still flushed but not as much as they were, and Yennefer straightens again, a soft smile on her face now. “I think he’s almost burnt through it. One more time should do it, I think.”</p><p>“Fuuuuck.” Jaskier slowly manages to pull himself to elbows and knees, slipping free from Geralt’s body and the mess slowly drying between them. He carefully guides Geralt’s legs in a more comfortable position and rolls to the side of the bed, pushing himself into a sitting position. “Now I need a minute,” he pants, flopping down on the unused bed and gratefully accepting the wet rag Yennefer hands him and rubbing himself clean.</p><p>“Hmm,” she muses, gently wiping Geralt’s stomach with another rag as he shifts and sighs, “it seems he does too. I think this was the most effective tactic. Think you could manage another one?”</p><p>He wants to say yes, he really does, but his back twinges and he knows that he won’t be ready to go so soon. The sorceress seems to understand what he isn’t saying easily enough, nodding once before throwing the wet rag down and once more picking up her bag to rummage through it.</p><p>When she turns around a moment later, Jaskier has to do a double take at the device she’s holding. She catches his eye and smirks, shaking the harness a little and making the buckles clink gently against the glass dildo protruding from the front. “Good thing I packed this old thing, huh? It’s been a while, but I’m sure it will do the trick. It’s done so before.”</p><p>“B- before?” Jaskier squeaks out. The mental image of Yennefer kneeling behind Geralt, harness strapped around her waist and thighs as she thrusts the dildo in and out of the witcher makes his cheeks flush, but also makes his stomach flutter in desire.</p><p>“Oh yes.” She steps into the harness, hiking it up and adjusting the buckles before making her way back over to the bed. Geralt is watching her with hooded eyes as she climbs on, panting and keening in the back of his throat when she moves to sit between his legs, taking Jaskier’s previous position. “Believe me, the first time I proposed this, he almost ran out screaming. Imagine that, the White Wolf, Geralt of Rivia, afraid of a woman suggesting he expand his horizons a little.” She pushes against Geralt’s knees and the witcher lifts his legs, spreading himself open for her so she can shift closer. “But I had him convinced soon after and it turns out, he loves this more than he will ever admit. He puts up a tough front, but he adores being spoiled like this. I’m against indulging him too much, obviously, but I think you agree that this is a special occasion.” Yennefer carefully lines up and starts pushing in, holding onto the witcher’s hips. Geralt sighs as his body accepts the glass easily, he must still be open and relaxed, eagerly taking in inch by inch.</p><p>Jaskier scoots up to the top of the bed, so he has full view of them as they start to move, Geralt a spent and sweaty mess as he grunts lowly, eyes fluttering closed but still working to meet Yennefer as she ruts into him, her breasts bouncing gently and her fingers digging into his thighs as she holds his legs open, forcing him to submit to her. They are magnificent, two of the most beautiful people he has ever seen, and he can feel his cock start to harden again, despite his earlier exhaustion.</p><p>“Fuck, Geralt,” Yennefer moans, and that, that definitely sends signals to all the right places and he can’t help the moan escaping from his lips. Yennefer looks up and takes in the state of him, then smiles. “Join us, Jaskier. I’m sure Geralt still has enough stamina to help you out.”</p><p>The witcher’s eyes open again and the look he gives Jaskier is more than enough. He rolls over and moves onto his knees, not breaking eye contact even as he leans over the witcher, not until Geralt opens his mouth and swallows him down. The sight is all but obscene, the way his lips stretch around Jaskier’s cock, the way he hollows his cheeks, and Jaskier has to look away before he emberasses himself. Instead he looks over at Yennefer, who in turn is looking at them hungrily, her eyes dark and she’s licking her lips, her hips stuttering and then they lean in and kiss hungrily, biting at each other’s mouths. The sensation of it is breathtaking, like he’s found something he did not know he was looking for, never knew he wanted it, but now, now he never wants to be without.</p><p>Geralt is writhing and moaning underneath them, trapped and wanton and helpless as Jaskier grips his hair and thrusts into his mouth while Yennefer breaks the kiss to pound into the witcher, head thrown back and hair cascading down her shoulders as she bucks, moaning, and then Jaskier sees Geralt’s dick twitch and spill once more. The sight of it finally makes him tumble over the edge too and he lets out a shout, hand still fisted in Geralt’s long hair as the witcher drinks him in eagerly before letting him slip out of his mouth.</p><p>They all still for a minute, panting and spent and sore already, the only sound in the room their gasping breathing. Then Jaskier realizes that Geralt’s eyes have shut once more and his breathing has evened, his face no longer flushed and radiating heat. He looks up to see Yennefer carefully pull the dildo out of Geralt, wiping him down quickly and then moving off the bed one more time to slip out of the harness and returning to the bed. She carefully places a hand on Geralt’s forehead. When he does not respond, she nods to herself. “I think that did it. He’s not nearly as hot anymore. I think…” she pauses, her brow furrowing, “I think he’s actually asleep!” She lets out a disbelieving laugh and looks over at Jaskier, who has not moved yet. Only now do the implications of what he… what <em>they</em> just did sink in. Oh gods, what if Geralt wakes up in the morning and-</p><p>“Hey, hey, none of that!” Yennefer snaps her fingers in his face, yanking him out of his rapidly spiraling train of thought and he looks up at her. “It’s late, we’re all tired and there’s nothing to do for it now. Here, help me untie him and then we go to bed.”</p><p>“Is that wise? You think he’s out of danger?” But he's already working on the knots, just as Yennefer is on the other side of the bed, and unwinds the rope from Geralt’s - miraculously unbruised - wrist, coiling it up and admiring the way it glitters in his hand.</p><p>“I’m certain of it. He’s probably burned through it faster because of his witcher mutations.” The sorceress holds out a hand and takes the rope from him, tossing the two coils into her bag without a second glance. Then she smirks. “With a bit of luck, he’ll actually sleep through the night. The gods know he needs it.” It’s meant in jest, but after everything, the words feel hollow and a pit nestles in Jaskier’s stomach.</p><p>Yennefer grabs one of the blankets that has fallen off the bed and then, to Jaskier’s surprise, she climbs into the bed and curls up next to Geralt, pulling the blanket over the both of them. He briefly wonders if he should just get into the other bed, but Yennefer gives him a look and he sighs. Careful not to jostle Geralt too much, he crawls in, fitting himself into the crook of Geralt’s arm. Even though he’s no longer burning up, the witcher is pleasantly warm and he makes a pleased sound as Jaskier gets comfortable, tugging the blanket around himself. When he wraps his arm around Geralt, his fingers brush Yennefer’s arm and the sorceress immediately grabs his hand, lacing their fingers and giving them a gentle squeeze. “Sleep, Jaskier.”</p><p>He tries to think of something to say in return, but Yennefer whispers something and the candles in the room snuff out, the fire gets lower and he hears her sigh in the dark. With a feeling of resignation, he closes his eyes and tries to stop thinking. It takes him surprisingly little time to fall asleep, curled up in a slightly too small bed for the three of them and almost wishing tomorrow would never come.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Jaskier is awoken an unknown amount of time later when his nicely warm and firm bed is jostled rather wildly. He yelps, flailing when he gets tangled in the blanket and falling off of the edge, landing roughly on the wooden floor and hearing Yennefer startle awake too. He manages to untangle himself and looks up to see Geralt, still stark naked, standing near the foot of the bed and staring at the two of them with a look of realization and mounting horror.</p><p>Yennefer, who is the only one still on the bed, sits up slowly, a guarded expression on her face as she regards the witcher. “Geralt… don’t panic.”</p><p>Geralt responds with a snapped “It’s a little late for that, Yennefer. What the fuck… what did you fucking do?!”</p><p>“Funny way of phrasing it, but you essentially answered your own question,” Yennefer drawls nonchalantly, but Jaskier can see the tense set of her shoulders and knows that just like Geralt usually puts on a façade, so does she.</p><p>Geralt balks at her words, his eyes flickering between her and Jaskier as he seems to put together what has happened. His face twists, as if he is feeling a myriad of emotions and does not know which one has priority, and then he scowls. “I thought I told you last night that under no circumstance you were to give in. I told you to let it burn out.”</p><p>“You did,” Jaskier suddenly snaps, “but that turned out to not be an option. You were getting worse, Geralt. We had to do something.”</p><p>“We?” Geralt stares at him and only now seems to realize that Jaskier is naked too. His eyes roam the bard’s body, then flick back to Yennefer, then back at him, and then his expression changes to one of even worse revulsion. “You should not have let me… do that to you. I told you I would not ask that of you, Jaskier, not like that. Fuck, I told you not to let me use you.”</p><p>“You did not use me. I offered, Geralt,” Jaskier barks, surprising himself with how harsh his voice is. “I gladly did it and I’d gladly do it again. You were dying, Geralt.”</p><p>“Then you should have let me!” Geralt’s scream startles Jaskier, and he suddenly realises that as angry as Geralt is, he isn’t angry at Yennefer and him. He deflates, understanding what exactly the witcher is saying. Geralt, too, slumps, and he stumbles backwards and falls back into one of the chairs, dropping his head in his hands. “Fuck, Jaskier, I would rather die than…”</p><p>
  <em>Hurt you.</em>
</p><p>Jaskier climbs to his feet, shrugging off the blanket and letting it drop as he makes his way over to the witcher. He leans in slowly, stretching out a hand and gently cupping Geralt’s chin when he reaches him. The witcher flinches at the contact, but does allow the bard to tip his head back. Golden yellow eyes meet dark blue ones and finally, finally Jaskier can see the fear hiding behind the anger, can see that Geralt is bracing himself for something. Rejection, revenge, he doesn’t know, but he does not care to think on it.</p><p>“Geralt,” he says, his voice low and gentle, “if you were to ask me to choose between letting you die and doing something about it, that would be an easy choice to make. If there was anything I could do to help you, anything to keep you from dying, I would do it. No question, no hesitation. Even if it hurt, even if it would make you hate me,” at that, Geralt makes to say something, but Jaskier continues before he can, “even if it would mean I would never see you again, I would do it. I will not let you die. I cannot let you die, Geralt. Do you hear me?”</p><p>Geralt huffs out a breath, shaking his head. “How can you say that? After last night, after what I… what I did to you…”</p><p>“I don’t want to hear it anymore, Geralt,” Jaskier cuts in, “I knew what I was getting into and I made my choice. You didn’t do anything, you hear? I wanted to do this. For you.”</p><p>“As did I,” Yennefer adds, from her position still on the bed, staring intently at the two of them. Geralt’s eyes flicker towards her and then he drops his gaze, as if he feels unworthy of looking at her. Something, though, is nagging in the back of Jaskier’s head. Something Geralt isn’t saying, something he’s desperate not to tell. A whisper of a memory resurfaces, something Geralt said last night, in the heat of the moment and he...</p><p>“Geralt,” he says, making the witcher focus back on him once more, “I want to ask you something and I want you to be honest, alright?” He waits until Geralt gives him a small nod, then continues, “When you say you did not want to use me, to use us… what did you mean?”</p><p>Geralt’s brow furrows, as if he does not understand the question. “I would say that’s obvious,” he says slowly, and it’s not an answer, it’s a deflection.</p><p>“No, Geralt, it isn’t. Why would you reject us, our help? Tell me.”</p><p>Geralt sighs, closing his eyes and turning away slightly, away from the hand Jaskier is still cupping around his face. “I didn’t want either of you to help me out of… out of pity or obligation. I want… I want more than that and I could not ask for it. Not like that. Not from you.”</p><p>It’s like someone reignites the fire in Jaskier’s stomach, but unlike last night’s blaze, this one is a gentle warmth, like a hearth in a beloved home and he can feel a smile form on his face. Throwing a look over his shoulder at Yennefer, who is wearing a look of perplexity on her face, he knows that they have come to the same conclusion. She gets up wordlessly, making her way over to them and standing next to the bard.</p><p>“Oh Geralt,” Jaskier whispers, “all you had to do was ask.”</p><p>The witcher turns his head sharply, staring at the two of them as they stand before him. Yennefer, who is leaning slightly against Jaskier, her hair brushing his bare shoulder, reaches over to cup Geralt’s other cheek, stroking it with her thumb. “For someone who prides himself in his directness, Geralt, you are remarkably imperceptive.”</p><p>“I…” Geralt looks between the two of the, as if he’s unsure whether or not he’s dreaming and terrified to find out, “I don’t…”</p><p>“I love you, you big oaf,” Jaskier says and oh, to finally say it out loud, it’s a rush he’s never experienced, even though he’s said the words many times, to many partners, “I have loved you for years now.”</p><p>“And if you’re still doubting my feelings, Geralt, I’d ask you to have your head checked,” Yennefer pipes up, but she’s smiling, lessening the bite of her words. “You’re a brute and a dense one at that, but you’re my brute. <em>Our</em> brute,” she amends hastily, before Jaskier can correct her.</p><p>It takes Geralt a long moment to process what they’re saying. Slowly, the tension seems to leave his shoulders. His eyes flutter shut again and he presses against them, realizing and accepting what they’re telling him. With an expression of reverence, he reaches up and presses his hands against theirs, hiding his face in their palms as if to hide this moment from the world, unwilling to share it with anyone else.</p><p>After a long moment of standing like this, Jaskier eventually has to break the silence. “Not that I’m unhappy with all the feelings confessions and everything, but I am also freezing and I’m very particular to my extremities. I vote we take another nap.”</p><p>Geralt huffs, but it’s an amused huff, a relaxed one, and he looks up at the both of them with a smile that can only be described as luminous. “Are you sure? You do hog the blankets whenever we share a bed.”</p><p>“I do not, they just don’t make them big enough for your witcher bulk.”</p><p>“Boys,” Yennefer interrupts, amused, “we slept in one bed last night, we’ll be good for a couple more hours. Come on, I’m cold too.”</p><p>They pile into the previously unused bed. Jaskier immediately rolls himself into one of the two blankets, only for Geralt to unceremoniously pick him up and unwind him, ignoring the bard’s squealing. Yennefer stretches herself out on the mattress with the remaining blanket and watches them for a while, until finally, they scoot together, Geralt in the middle again with Jaskier and Yen on either side of him, tucking in close. It takes them a moment to get comfortable, but before long, they calm down, dozing as the early morning light peeks through the cracks in the shutters.</p><p>Jaskier is already halfway asleep when Geralt mumbles, “How are we going to do this?”</p><p>“Not now, Geralt,” Yennefer yawns, snuggling a little closer and reaching over the witcher to firmly grab Jaskier’s hand like she did before, “sleep. We’ll figure it out.”</p><p>Jaskier hums in agreement, words too difficult to form, and presses a sloppy kiss against Geralt’s shoulder.</p><p>“Hmm.”</p><p>“Seriously, Geralt. We will figure this out. Stop woolgathering for now, ok? We’ll pick it up in the morning.”</p><p>“Yen, it’s already morning.”</p><p>“Geralt, don’t make me bring out the gag again.”</p><p>That earns her a snort, but Geralt does pipe down, hugging them a little closer and staring up at the ceiling.</p><p>“I love you both. You know that, right?”</p><p>“Hmm-hmm. Now hush. Some need our beauty sleep.”</p><p>“You’re a sorceress, Yen, you don’t need a beauty sleep.”</p><p>“I was talking about Jaskier.”</p><p>
  <em>“Hey!”</em>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>WHEW, I needed to get that out of my system. </p><p>Kudos are nice, comments even better.</p><p>I'm definitely not done with this fandom. Heck, I'm already working on my next fic.</p><p>Come yell at me about The Witcher on my Tumblr! I'm proud-librarian there</p></blockquote></div></div>
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